by L C Hayden
Andrew threw his head back and laughed. “I have a gorgeous Lamborghini locked in my garage. Would you care to see it?”
“I’ve always appreciated the beauty of a Lamborghini, but silly as it sounds, Porsches are more my style.”
“And why is that?” Larry leaned back on the couch, his arms thrown around the cushions’ back. He seemed in no hurry, and Bronson assumed he was used to Andrew’s way. A little chit-chat first, then business.
“My wife, Amy—she always nagged me about bein’ an underachiever. I promised her that one day I’d make enough money to buy enough Porsches to match every outfit she wore.” Bronson looked down at the floor and lowered his head. “Cancer took her before I could make good on that promise. Now when I see one zooming down the street, I imagine she’s there, smilin’ and wavin’ at me.” He slowly looked up. “Silly, huh?”
Andrew’s smile brightened his face. “No, actually it’s very sentimental, and I like that. When we finish our business deal, I’ll take you to see a Porsche.”
Bronson brightened. “Yeah? Where?” He hoped it wasn’t the dealership.
“My friend—he has one. A real nice shade of red.”
Bingo! “Your friend? I like his taste. He must be rich.”
Andrew huffed. “He most definitely is. He is, after all, our senator’s son.”
“Wow. You keep good company.” Bronson nodded.
“I try.” Andrew took the last bite of his Danish and wiped his mouth. “Now, should we get down to business?”
“That’s what we’re here for.” Mike folded his hands on his lap and leaned forward.
All eyes focused on Larry.
He cleared his throat. “We have a plane, ready to go. The earliest it can leave is five today.”
“I’m very pleased that you’ve expedited matters.” Bronson paused and pouted. “But that’s a bit too soon for me.”
Larry frowned. “Why is that, Mr. Bentley? I thought you were in a hurry to get those treasures out.”
“I am. But my men are goin’ to have to find a safe place for the plane to land. But now that I know you’re ready at this end, I’ll immediately contact my men. Soon as I hear back from them, I’ll get back to you.”
“How long will that take?”
“No more than twenty-four hours. If not, not much more than that.”
Andrew stood up. “Then that part is settled. Now, all we need to discuss is the payment. Larry, what figure are we looking at?”
“Before we get to the specifics, there’s another matter we need to settle,” Bronson said.
“Oh? What’s that?” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he tilted his head just a bit.
“You know I’m the head of my organization. I have no secrets to hide, and that’s what I demand from you all. In a previous case, I dealt with the second-in-command. That turned into a nasty fight. I don’t ever want to do that again.” Bronson paused. “So, Larry, no offense, but I want to deal with Andrew. You can make whatever arrangements you want or do whatever you do, but in the end, it’s Andrew I deal with. Fair enough?”
“It don’t bother me none.” Larry threw his arms up in surrender. “That’s the way it’s always been.”
Bronson smiled. “Good. That’s what I was hopin’ to hear. As such, Andrew, you do plan to be at the airport when the plane lifts off.”
Andrew shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on it, but I can’t see why not if that’s the only thing that’s going to cement this deal.”
“It is,” Bronson said. “Unless you’re not the real leader.”
Larry looked down and a small spark lit up in Andrew’s eyes, but the flash came and left in a micro-second, and Bronson wasn’t sure if he saw it at all.
Andrew straightened up like a proud peacock, cleared his throat, and attempted a weak smile. “Why would you even ask that? Do you think I would give you a raw deal?”
“No, not at all,” Bronson said. “I hope you didn’t take offense, but I had to ask. I hate surprises. So are you the leader? There’s no one you have to answer to.”
Andrew’s Adam apple bobbed, and he looked up and to his right. “There’s no one else. I answer to no one.”
That’s when Bronson knew Andrew was lying.
52
When Mike and Bronson approached the car, Honey wagged her tail and came running to greet them. Bronson bent down and patted her head. “You’re such a good girl.” The three of them climbed in the car and drove away.
“That was gutsy, what you did back there,” Mike drove slowly around the tree-lined curves that led away from the Beauregard mansion.
Bronson shrugged. “I had to take a chance. We needed answers, and we’re runnin’ out of time.”
“Glad you did because that bought us time. By the way, that was cool the way you accomplished that.”
“Yeah? Thank God it worked. Now for the million-dollar question. Is Andrew the boss?”
“I think Andrew is second-in-command. He reports to a silent partner. Is that the impression you got?”
“Exactly the same.”
They reached the intersection where Mike needed to turn onto the two-lane road. “This road creeps me out.” Mike stepped on the brakes, checked that no cars were coming from either direction, and turned. “It needs lights. Even during the day, it’s in the shadows.”
“Some might say it’s pretty this way.”
“Some, but not me.” Mike’s eyebrows twitched as he grasped the steering wheel, fighting to control it. His knuckles turned white from the effort. The car slowed down and Mike released some of his grasp.
Bronson’s glance swept the surrounding area. “What’s goin’ on?”
The car came to a stop.
Mike turned the ignition key.
Nothing.
“Car trouble?”
Mike slammed his open hand on the steering wheel. “We’re out of gas.”
“You forgot to fill her up?”
“We had over two-thirds of a tank when we arrived at the mansion. Now, nothing.”
Bronson reached under the seat for the Glock and stuffed it in his pocket. “I’ll check it out.” As soon as he opened the door, a strong smell of gasoline infiltrated the area. He bent down. “Looks like somebody cut the gas line.” He straightened up and dusted off his pants.
Mike stepped out and bent down to see if there was anything he could do. He carried his Glock in his hand.
Bronson went around the car and headed toward Mike. Honey jumped out of the car and joined the duo. The three stood silently, listening, wondering. Bronson reached into his pocket and took out his gun.
Honey’s head jerked up.
Bronson heard the squealing of tires as a car headed toward them. From the sound of it, it must have been doing at least seventy on this narrow, dangerous road.
Honey growled.
Bronson could now make out the outline of the approaching car.
A Porsche.
Bronson threw his weight on Mike, knocking him down, just as a single shot from a high-velocity rifle whizzed by. Bronson dropped, landing on top of Mike.
Immediately, he rolled away from Mike, raised his semi-automatic pistol, and fired at the speeding car. Probably didn’t even make a dent. Bronson cursed himself.
Honey licked his face and Bronson hugged her.
He sat up. “You okay, buddy? Sorry about knockin’ you down.”
Mike didn’t respond.
“Mike?”
Silence.
Bronson touched Mike’s shoulder. His hand turned bright red from Mike’s blood.
As Bronson rolled Mike to assess the damage and render aid, all he could think of was 9-1-1, Officer down.
Mike down.
53
Cold and helpless.
That’s how Andrew felt. He’d been in the business since he was a teen, and what did he have to show for it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. No matter what kind of a decision he made, he had to report to his superior. If he liked it, he�
��d approve it.
If it went well, who got the credit? Certainly not him.
His superior, his friend. Always his friend.
Andrew smirked. As it turns out, he wasn’t much of a friend, was he? Andrew sank on the couch, sweat covering his face. His hand held a rum-and-Coke, the third one in the past hour.
He gulped down his drink. Somehow he needed to take over the business. But how? His friend … he’d be impossible—
Andrew’s phone beeped and Andrew jumped up, spilling his drink. The caller I.D. read Thomas Morris. The Thomas Morris. The senator’s son. His best friend. Ha!
Andrew knew the call would come. He had failed to report on the latest development. His friend must be furious because he hadn’t received an update. Andrew’s trembling fingers swiped the answer key. “Yeah?” He wasn’t about to play nice.
A long silence followed.
Andrew waited it out.
Finally, “Mike’s dead.”
Air fled Andrew’s lungs in harsh gasps. “What?”
A small pause followed. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that, since I’m not sure. He did go down, but there’s no way to confirm his death. At least, not yet.”
“What happened?” Andrew gulped down the last of his rum and Coke.
“I guess everything went according to the plan. Drive-by shooting and a lucky shot.”
“But why? Why kill Mike?”
“Here’s how I see it. We all know Mike’s a dirty cop. Sooner or later, the police are going to find out. When they do, they’ll see he’s been associating with us. We can’t have that happening. So now Mike is out of the equation.”
Andrew stood and headed to the bar. Why hadn’t he thought of that? As the organization’s future leader, he should have realized that. But there was a flip side to that coin. Mike’s death would lead the police back to them. “The feds are going to investigate Mike’s death. They will see the obvious and continue to dig until they find the truth. That’ll lead back to us—or at least, to me.”
“Don’t be a fool. We’ve got you covered. For the past few days, Larry has been calling the police, claiming there’s been illegal hunting going on in the woods surrounding your house. Unfortunately, today, a stray bullet found the wrong mark. You knew about this, right? You’re acting like the news came as a shock.”
Andrew poured rum into his glass, added ice cubes, and just a touch of Coke. “Of course I knew.” He spoke too fast, too soon. “It’s just that I’m really concerned. The police are going to dig and dig and that will open a can of worms.”
“I doubt that.”
“Why?” Andrew flopped down on the couch.
“Because they know Mike’s a dirty cop. They’ll be glad to sweep everything under the rug. The sooner forgotten the better. They will rule that his death was a result of an unfortunate hunting accident.”
“What about Bentley?”
“What about him?”
“Won’t the police want to question him?”
“If Bentley is as smart as I think he is, he’ll stray clear across the other side. Remember, Bentley isn’t exactly on the right side of the law either. He’s not going to be a problem. You can proceed with the plan.”
Andrew emptied half the contents of his drink in one swallow. “I hope you’re right.”
“Of course I am. Have I ever let you down?”
No, he hadn’t, but there’s always a first time. “In that case, I’ll make sure the deal with Bentley goes down soon.”
“Looks like you’re going to need some moral support. When Bentley calls you with the details, let me know. I’ll either pick you up or meet you there. Either way, we’ll both see the plane take off.”
Andrew’s world brightened. “Yeah? You’ll do that?”
“For you, I’d do anything.”
Andrew smiled. You’re in for a great surprise. “Thanks. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll contact you.”
“You do that.” The line went dead.
Andrew punched the end button and stared at the cell. His fingers lightly drummed the phone. Slowly, a smile as insincere as it was ugly spread across his face.
54
Bronson sat hunched forward. He had pulled open his shirt and tie in an attempt to feel better. It hadn’t worked. The lower part of his arms rested on his lap, and his hands dangled between his legs. His eyes focused on the plain tiled floor as though he could find some hidden answer there.
The door to the interrogation room opened and Special Agent Pablo Escobar stepped in.
Bronson straightened up. “Mike?”
“He’s in surgery.”
“Is he … will he …”
“The doctors wouldn’t commit. It’s touch and go.” He walked toward Bronson and sat next to him. “I’m sorry. I know you two are close.”
“Yeah, and I couldn’t save him.”
“If you hadn’t pushed him down, the bullet would have lodged in his heart. He’d be dead by now.”
“You weren’t there. You don’t know that.”
“True, but I was at the scene and studied the angles. You may have saved his life.”
“I’d like to go to the hospital. Be there when he wakes up.”
“That can be arranged.”
Bronson’s sight bounced from one wall to the other in the small interrogation room that had been his cell for the past hour. “What about—”
“The police? You don’t need to worry about them. This is now strictly an FBI case, and I’m in charge.”
“Does that mean I’m free to go?”
“Yes, of course.” Pablo stood up. “By the way, I’m heading to the hospital. Would you like a ride?”
Bronson bolted to his feet. “Where’s Honey?”
“Honey?” Pablo’s eyes narrowed then widened as he made the connection. “Oh, you mean your dog.”
Bronson nodded.
“My friend Kay has a very big backyard and an even bigger heart. Honey is fine. You can pick her up anytime you want.” Pablo took out his car keys. “Are you ready to go?”
“More than ready.”
“Good. You can fill me in on all of the details on the way to the hospital.”
* * *
Even though Bronson wasn’t familiar with the area, he felt that Pablo took too many side roads, thus prolonging the trip to the hospital. Bronson was desperate to be with Mike, but he knew better than to complain. Instead, he addressed each question with as much detail as possible.
Pablo slowed down as they neared the stop sign.
Wouldn’t the freeway be faster? Bronson bit his tongue to keep from screaming at the FBI agent.
“Are you sure that the senator’s son—what’s his name anyway?” Pablo looked at both sides of the street before proceeding.
“Thomas Morris.”
“Ah, Thooomas Morrisss.”
The way Pablo pronounced the name told Bronson that Pablo had already known that fact. Did that mean that Bronson had passed some kind of a test? It didn’t matter. Let Pablo play his games.
For a moment Pablo remained quiet as though focusing on his driving. Then, “Are you sure that Thomas owns a red Porsche, and the passenger in that car was the one who shot Mike?”
“Without a doubt.”
“Did you by any chance get to see the driver or the passenger?”
Bronson wished he had. “No.”
“But the senator’s son owns a red Porsche. You know this for sure.”
“Andrew himself told me that his best friend owns a red Porsche. Now, whether it was the same car I saw, I can’t verify that. Nor can I really say that such car belongs to Thomas Morris.”
“One phone call will tell us if Morris is indeed the proud owner of a red Porsche.”
A sign reading Memorial Hospital with an arrow pointing to the right caught Bronson’s attention. “Is that it? Is that where Mike is?”
Pablo nodded. “Relax. We’re almost there.”
“I can’t relax until I know
Mike’s okay.”
“I may not act like it, but I’m also concerned about Mike. In spite of the trouble he’s in, I’m sure he’s innocent.”
“He’s as straight an arrow as they come.”
By now, the hospital, a multi-level u-shaped structure, was visible. Pablo turned into the crowded parking lot. “I realize you can’t prove anything, but what do you think Morris’ involvement is in all of this?”
Bronson took a deep breath. The parking lot was full. Why couldn’t Pablo let him out while he continued to search for a parking space? “Mike’s determined to expose the ring leader. That’s the only way this organization will fall. For a while, we assumed that Andrew was the man, but we came to believe he was only second in command.”
“And Morris is number one.”
“Maybe.”
Pablo glanced at Bronson. “Maybe?”
“There’s Larry Webb, the guy who makes all of the arrangements. Maybe he’s the one. Maybe Morris is. All we have to connect him to this case is the red Porsche.”
“Keep talking.”
“It just seems to me that if you’re goin’ to kill someone, you wouldn’t drive a Porsche.”
“Unless there wasn’t supposed to be any witnesses left.”
Bronson shrugged. “Maybe. That’s what Mike and I were goin’ to do before he got shot. We were plannin’ to establish a connection between Morris and Andrew and see just how and if he’s involved.”
An elderly couple headed for a car. Both Bronson and Pablo watched them. “Looks like we might have found a parking space.”
It’s about time. Bronson reached for the door handle, ready to jump out as soon as Pablo turned off the ignition key.
“Before you bolt out,” Pablo said, “there are two things we need to agree on.”
“I’m listenin’.”
“One, you do nothing without first consulting me.”
“Okay.”
“That means not notifying Mike’s wife about the accident.”
“Not a wife.”